


Chapter III

by rhicola



Series: See You In Hindsight [4]
Category: The Walking Dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 02:54:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3192569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhicola/pseuds/rhicola
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This chapter was originally written as a role play between Kaitlin and I, but we decided to rewrite it to be from a single point of view--at least, to the best of our ability. If it reads weird, please let me know so that we can fix future chapters we've written in the same way.</p><p>I also want to take this time to thank all of our readers! We have a lot more on fanfiction.net, but I'm still so grateful for all of them. We bust our butts for this fic and there's going to be a lot more to come. I promise it gets better. Stay tuned!</p>
    </blockquote>





	Chapter III

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter was originally written as a role play between Kaitlin and I, but we decided to rewrite it to be from a single point of view--at least, to the best of our ability. If it reads weird, please let me know so that we can fix future chapters we've written in the same way.
> 
> I also want to take this time to thank all of our readers! We have a lot more on fanfiction.net, but I'm still so grateful for all of them. We bust our butts for this fic and there's going to be a lot more to come. I promise it gets better. Stay tuned!

Beth stared up at the ceiling, her mind reeling from the day's events. And not just that specific day she was sitting in now, but getting shot at Grady Memorial and Daryl and the journal she'd found in her pocket that proved it wasn't all just a dream. But she didn't know. Would she dream about her past life when she slept? Beth knew she didn't want to find out.

Even though she knew she needed sleep, she wanted to be outside under the stars to clear her head. She wouldn't be able to calm herself in this room, not with all that had happened. So she slipped out from beneath the covers and crossed the floor. The door opened with a small creak, but when she looked around in the hallway no one else made any noise of acknowledgement, even in their sleep. Her bare feet padded along the hard wood of the house. When she reached the door to the patio she pushed it open quietly, and stepped out into the warm Georgia night.

A sigh escaped her lips. She knew there wouldn't be many calm nights ahead. The thought made her shiver, even in the sticky darkness. She heard shuffling near her, and turned to find Daryl Dixon watching the field. The sight of him and his crossbow, sitting there, made her throat tighten, her breath stop short, and her heart flutter nervously against her rib cage. She hadn't gotten to speak to him at Grady, and the last words she said to him echoed in her head: "I'm not going to leave you!" But he didn't remember that. It hadn't happened yet. She shouldn't know it was going to happen. Hell, she didn't even think at this point her and Daryl had shared two words with each other before. And the whole thing made her head swim with ifs and buts and almosts.

Silently, she took the seat next to his — an old rocking chair with white paint chipping off from age. And then she just stared at him for a minute, trying to figure out what to say and not giving a damn if it made him uncomfortable, knowing he wouldn't start the conversation anyway. "Do you mind if I sit with you a while? I can't sleep."

Daryl had a lot on his mind when the screen door opened, and the spring stretched and snapped the door back into place. He shuddered at the sound, startled because he wasn’t expecting anybody to be up at this hour. Usually when he took the night watch, the others from their group took advantage of it and slept through the night, knowing that they’d be safe with the archer on duty. He glanced over his shoulder to see Beth Greene standing on the doormat, taking in the warm and quiet night with no knowledge of his presence until she looked down at him and their eyes met for a moment. _“Don’t you think that’s beautiful?”_

Quickly looking away, Daryl focused back on the empty acres spreading far ahead of him. Not a walker in sight. He sat back as Beth took a seat beside him and asked if it he was okay with her company. “S’fine, Beth,” he replied quietly, stealing a glance at her.

Daryl actually welcomed the company, and he knew that if it had been anyone else, he’d’ve taken a walk until they went back inside to bed. He was simply intrigued by Beth, the same way that he had been a few days prior when she was still in her state of shock. He felt drawn to her like they had magnets pulling them together. The last time he felt this way about someone, he was head over heels in love with the girl, which made this all the more confusing to him. After all, he barely knew the girl.

“I been there before,” he whispered and nodded his head a few times as he shuffled his rocking chair around to face Beth a little more. “Had no hope, no vision for the future. Kinda stuck with no way out. Thought it’d be easier to die than it’d be to keep livin’ in a lifeless shell.”

He shrugged his shoulders, mostly to himself because he didn’t know why he was opening up to the girl. Nobody knew about the hell he put himself through after Merle left home for good; hell, even Merle didn’t know. Maybe Beth would take something from it, see him as a role model so she wouldn’t let herself get that low again. Maybe he just needed to talk about it finally. “I’m just happy we both came back from it,” he concluded plainly.

He watched her in the beam radiating from the porch light as she swallowed hard and blinked tears out of her eyes, obviously emotional over the whole ordeal. He could understand it; everybody on the farm knew her business right now and it really wasn’t business he’d want everybody to know about either. She was fragile—emotionally, definitely not physically. It took someone strong to choose life over death.

"Me too," was her first response and Daryl wondered if she truly meant it. If she was actually happy to still be around, or if she was just here because that’s what her family would want. He wanted to know, wanted to get to know her and her secrets. 

The girl shifted in her chair and brought her legs up, knotting them like a pretzel beneath her. She let out a sigh as she pieced together her next sentence in her head, rehearsing it before she let it flow from her lips and to his ears. "I just wanted to be in control of it, you know? It's inevitable, and I just - I'd rather go out on my own terms. But, that's not really an option now." Beth paused for a moment, her hands physically weighing her choice in words. "We owe it to ourselves to fight; I guess is what I'm trying to say. To ourselves and the people we love, to fight until our last breath."

Daryl listened as Beth struggled to explain her thoughts in coherent sentences, but as she strung her words together, he realized that he agreed with her completely. They had jobs to do, duties to fulfill for those in their group, those they called family. She was right, they both had a place and if either of them were gone, things would fall apart. Even before the outbreak, this was true. Still, he agreed with her desire to be in control of her own life, her own demise. He would rather die at his own hand than be eaten alive by a walker, after all.

“I get it,” Daryl mumbled softly, touching his fingertips to his lips as he stared at Beth. Her ponytail was loose, probably pushed around as she tossed and turned in her efforts to sleep. The fly-aways framed her face, gently lying against her skin in an unkempt kind of way. The moonlight made her crystal blue eyes twinkle as she gazed up at him. All of it made her beautiful to Daryl, and he had to consciously look away in order to keep himself and his breathing in check. Where was this coming from? Was he really this lonely? Seeking attention from a sixteen year old girl with an idiot for a boyfriend? He shook his head at himself and tried to clear away his thoughts. “’M sorry about your mom, and your brother. Shane’s a prick, I wouldn’ stop ya if you decided to kill him.”

A laugh bubbled from Beth’s lips before she could stop it, and she seemed to revel in the feeling of it, like it had been the first time she’d laughed in awhile. It was contagious and Daryl found himself chuckling, too, especially as he imagined her small frame taking down Shane.

Beth settled finally and sighed again, an exhale of happiness. She held her aching abs and smiled at him. "Thanks for that. And for saying that about my mom and Shawn. I kind of knew all along I guess. That they weren't coming back.” Her jovial expression fell about ten stories as she uttered her gratitude. “I'm sorry about Sophia. I had no idea she was in there, and I really don't think my father did either. He wouldn't have let you and the others risk their lives like that if he'd known…I know you did all you could to find her, and I'm so sorry,” she concluded, making Daryl wave it off literally.

She didn’t have to thank him or feel sorry for him because he was used to it. He was used to disappointment and he was used to dealing with it. Deep down, he kind of had a feeling Sophia was dead, he just didn’t want to believe that. For Carol. No one deserved to lose their children, and Daryl wanted to be the one to bring Sophia back to her. He wanted to be the reason for her happiness, for the group’s happiness. He wanted to be the hero, but heroes didn’t exist in this world. “It don’t matter, Beth,” Daryl began with a shake of his head. “I’m used to it. Used to losin’ people, disappointment and all. You get used to it in a world like this.”

He felt himself close up again, subconsciously building a brick wall between his feelings and Beth the way that he had his entire life. His anger over finding Sophia in the barn still lingered in the palms of his hands as he balled them into fists, but his face remained soft and his rage soon passed. “Thank you, though,” he finally said, knowing that this was what Beth wanted from him. He gave his condolences, she gave hers. All he had to do was acknowledge it. “I feel like I was the only one to ever give a damn about that lil girl, though, her mother included. I hope she knows I tried.”

"She does, Daryl," Beth rebutted with conviction. She brought her hand to his forearm gently, her fingers cold against his heated skin, and it sent a shiver through him. It felt familiar, her touch and her presence; but as soon as he felt it, the familiarity faded. Like a dream as he woke up.

A sudden yawn came to Beth’s mouth then, which she passed on to him, making him yawn along with her. She seemed a lot calmer than she had when she first came outside, her mind full of thoughts she couldn’t shut off. “I’m going to try and sleep,” she said, taking her hand away and standing up. She stretched like a cat waking up from a particularly peaceful afternoon nap, and took a deep breath.

As she turned and looked him over, she remembered the moonshine shack. And that sometimes, actions spoke louder than words. She took a timid step toward him, and bent down at her waist to wrap her arms around his neck. She could tell he didn’t expect it, but he didn’t do anything to stop her, so she nuzzled her face against his neck and breathed in deep. She closed her eyes, wondering when she would be able to touch him again, knowing this might be the last time for a while. She savored every second before footsteps came up the porch stairs.

"Daryl, there you are," Rick's voice from behind them startled her, and she turned her head away from Daryl, but not her body — which subsequently was pushed closer to Daryl’s in the process, to look toward the voice.

“I’ll leave y’all to it,” Beth said quietly into Daryl’s ear as she pulled away.

Daryl hadn’t expected Rick to approach him at such an hour, but it seemed that sleepless nights were contagious about the camp. Beth had leaned into him as she hugged him tightly, the first hug he’d had in years. His thoughts were full of it, the way it felt, the warmth she’d left behind after she made her exit. The way his heart sort of fluttered at her touch. Daryl didn’t understand it, the way he felt about this girl he barely knew, how he’d opened up to her so easily. But he welcomed it, the girl and the friendship that he felt building from their short conversation.

“We gotta do somethin’ about Shane,” Rick began, sitting in the rocking chair that Beth had vacated. “I can’t sleep. I keep thinking about what he’s done, the trust he’s cost us. He can’t just get away with slaughtering this family’s own.”

Rick’s voice pulled Daryl from his thoughts and he simply nodded in response, agreeing completely that something had to be done. Shane was out of control and Daryl was actually afraid to see what the man would do next. “What d’you suggest?” he asked Rick before reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes, a force of habit. His fingertips touched his forehead and found his hair shorter than they’d remembered.

“We can limit his power,” Rick started with a sigh, “take away his firearms, and give him no voice in the group. Seems childish, but I can’t trust him, at least not with a gun.”

Daryl lifted his shoulders in a shrug and _hmph_ ed. “Think that’ll stop him from scarin’ everybody?” he asked. “Why are ya asking me anyway?”

It was Rick’s turn to be at a loss of words. He lifted his hand in a gesturing way toward Daryl, and then shook his head back and forth. “This group is in your best interest, Daryl. You showed up and convinced Hershel to return home to help Beth. You searched for Sophia relentlessly. I value your input.”

“You want my input?” Daryl quickly followed up, his voice rough with irritation. “Kill Shane before he kills you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Preview of Chapter IV:
> 
> Beth let out another scream as she dug her knife into the closest walker. Dark blood and brain matter came flying at her, dousing her already stained shirt. She could feel the blood soaking her hair to her face and the smell of rotting flesh was overwhelming.
> 
> Walkers kept coming; the fresh meat enticed them toward her. She killed one walker after the other, as they kept coming she started to kick them down too. She stomped down on the skulls of the ones who fell. Blood spattered everywhere and the crunch of skulls only egged her on instead of disgusting her. 
> 
> The dead kept falling around her, but as they fell more replaced them. She thought of Hercules fighting Hydra, the nine-headed water-serpent who would grow two heads every time one was cut from her body. Focus! She told herself as she continued to slaughter the walkers, letting out more guttural screams.
> 
> Her voice was suddenly drowned out by the sound of an engine roaring to life. Daryl. She kept fighting, knowing he would come for her. She thought for a moment about how crazy that was. 
> 
> The first time her father’s farm was overrun, she’d never spared a second thought for the redneck. But she’d seen the changes in him on the porch that night, and she trusted him with every fiber of her being, just as she had in the funeral home.
> 
> She kept running, kept killing until Daryl’s bike came into view.“C’mon,” he screamed, “I ain’t got all day.”


End file.
